


Take Care of Me

by battybatzgirl



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alley Sex, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manhandling, Missions Gone Wrong, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Protective Ward, happy non-hydra au, i'm in denial okay, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3286496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battybatzgirl/pseuds/battybatzgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Grant,” said Fitz, but Ward squeezed his hand again and it came out more like a whine.  “We—we’re in an alley.”  Fitz tried to move his hands, to get them out of Ward’s grip, to get away and get some blood back into his head, but the agent held strong and didn’t budge.  </p>
<p>“Hmm,” Ward mused softly, nuzzling his way back up Fitz’s neck and kissing a patch of skin behind his ear.  “I suppose you’ll just have to be quiet, then.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Care of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I just really needed some Fitzward porn in my life. So, I present to you all what happens when I imagine these two bozos together.

The _Roter Hahn Kneipe_ —or the Red Rootser Bar, to non speaking Germans—was a seedy place.  The streets surrounding it were darkened and unoccupied, the only light illuminating it coming from the flickering streetlights above.  The bar was typically not noisy, but when two men came bursting out of the bar’s side door, their voices echoed out into the night.

“Let go of me,” hissed Leo Fitz, wrestling his arm out of his teammate’s grasp.  “Let go, you crazy lunatic!”

Grant Ward, who kept a strong grip on Fitz’s arm despite his struggles, looked down both sides of the street before steering the cursing Scotsman into the alley beside the bar. 

“I almost had him!” Fitz continued.  “I was so close to getting him to tell me the information!  Why did you have to pull me out?”

“You weren’t _so close_ ,” said Ward.  “You were in trouble.  I had to pull you out!”

“I was doing fine!” whisper-yelled Fitz.  “I could have handled anything myself!  You were just there to watch in case we needed backup anyway, and—“

“Could you have handled falling on your ass and not being able to get up?” said Ward crossly.  “That guy drugged your drink, Fitz.  He was coming close to trying something.”

 “I’m not an idiot, Ward!” hissed Fitz.  “I knew he drugged my drink!”

Ward stares at him, slightly flabbergasted and slightly enraged. “What?”

“I knew he drugged my drink,” Fitz repeated, rolling his eyes.  “Why don’t you think I was drinking it?”

“You—you knew?”

“Yes, I bloody knew!” said Fitz, throwing his arms up in the air.  “I may not be an agent, but I can still take care of myself!”

“No,” said Ward, shaking his head and scowling.  “No, you can’t.  What if you hadn’t noticed him slip something in your drink?  What if you drank it?  What if he tried something?  What would you have done then?”

“But he didn’t,” Fitz pointed out crossly.  Despite being shorter and smaller built than Ward, the scientist stood his ground and crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at Ward like a petulant child.

“That’s not the point!” said Ward, running a frustrated hand through his hair.  “People are dangerous.  How would you be able to know how the world works when you’re stuck in a lab all day?”

“I’m not some china doll, _Agent_ ,” Fitz spat, his cheeks now splotchy red.  “I can take a punch just as well as any other bloke!”

Without warning, Ward shoved Fitz roughly against the brick wall behind him.  Fitz made a noise of pain as his back connected with the hard stone, and barely had time to blink before Ward had caught both of his wrists in both of his hands and held them high above his head.  Ward used his larger build to incase Fitz to the wall, blocking the scientist from escape.

“What the—you—“  Fitz stammered, struggling to get out of Ward’s hold.  The agent only tightened his hold on the smaller man, and Fitz immediately stilled when he felt Ward’s hot breath against his ear.

“You’re so breakable,” Ward breathed, and Fitz’s skin got goosebumps as he nuzzled the side of Fitz’s cheek.  “Don’t you understand that someone could hurt you so easily?”

“I—“  Fitz had a hard time putting thought and word together, finally coming to terms with how close Ward was in this position and how he had no route of escape from said position.

Ward dragged his nose across Fitz’s cheekbone until their foreheads were pressed together.  Fitz’s eyes locked with his teammate’s, and he felt his stomach flip.

“I have to protect you,” Ward said, his voice hard but sincere.  “I couldn’t live with myself if I let something happen to you.”

Maybe it was because of the adrenaline of the mission, the delicious heat that Ward’s body was giving off, or because he was completely and utterly _mad_ , but before he could really process what he was doing, Fitz rose up on his toes and pressed his lips to Ward’s.

Ward must have been surprised, because he made a muffled little noise.  The noise shocked Fitz out of whatever spell he had been under, and he drew back so fast he slammed his head against the brick behind him.

“Jesus—Ward, shite, I-I’m sor— _mmpph!_ ” Fitz, horrified, had tried to apologize but immediately got shut up by the agent pressing his lips back against his.  This time, it wasn’t a hesitant peck like Fitz had given—it was a full on _snog_ , filled with desperation and hunger and fire and Fitz was sure he would have melted if Ward hadn’t been holding him up.

Ward kissed like he fought—he dominated, leading every fight, using whatever he could to his advantage.  His tongue invaded Fitz’s mouth within seconds, pressing and prodding and willing the scientist into action.  Fitz tried to recuperate, to give back as good as he got, but he was in unexplored territory.

Fitz had only ever been snogged like this once before—with Martin Faulker at the academy in a secluded corner of the Boiler Room.  They had both been inexperienced and idiotic and incredibly drunk.  With Martin, it had been sloppy and wet and difficult to maneuver.  With Ward, Fitz wasn’t entirely sure where he stopped and where the other began, but he soon found that it didn’t matter.

Fitz started to feel himself go lightheaded, but as if he was the Clairvoyant himself, Ward broke off to let him breathe.  Chest heaving, Fitz craned his neck to the side to let Ward have better access, as the agent began to attack the smooth column with his lips.

“Y-you bast-tard,” panted Fitz, biting his lip in order to muffle a moan as Ward found a sensitive spot just above his pulse.  “Is this how you get your ki-cks?  Leading innocent good-doers down a-alleyways to have a snog in a less than pu-public place?”

Ward snorted, his breath hot against Fitz’s neck and he fought a shiver.  “Your pulse is racing,” he informed the scientist softly, nipping against the skin sharply.  Fitz jerked and bit back a groan, but Ward soothed the bite with his tongue. 

One of Ward’s hands drifted downwards from holding his wrists, slowly made its way across the scientist’s waist before pressing up against the front of his trousers.  Fitz gasped sharply at the sudden contact to his hardening member. 

“Something tells me you aren’t so innocent,” Ward rumbled in his ear, and Fitz could _hear_ the smug smile in his voice. 

The agent cupped his hand and squeezed, and Fitz arched off the brick wall with a keen.  There was a fire in his stomach and Ward was so, so hot and his hand so good and—

Loud laughter erupted from the far end of the street, and Fitz realized that they were in a _bloody alley_ in some backwater neighborhood and _on a mission_ and they were doing something that they most certainly _should_ _not be doing._

“ _Grant_ ,” said Fitz, but Ward squeezed his hand again and it came out more like a whine.  “We—we’re in an _alley_.”  Fitz tried to move his hands, to get them out of Ward’s grip, to get away and get some blood back into his head, but the agent held strong and didn’t budge. 

“Hmm,” Ward mused softly, nuzzling his way back up Fitz’s neck and kissing a patch of skin behind his ear.  “I suppose you’ll just have to be quiet, then.”

“Wha—oh, _oh!_ ”

Ward had somehow undone Fitz’s trousers without him noticing—bloody operations and their stealth training—and now held the scientist’s erection in his hand.  Ward pumped once, and Fitz hissed, slamming his head back against the brick wall. 

“Don’t crack your head open,” Ward scolded, as if he was critiquing a fighting stance Fitz was attempting rather than giving him a handjob in the middle of a dirty alley.  “I don’t want to explain how it happened to Simmons, do you?”

“Maybe,” hissed Fitz through his teeth, doing his best to glare at his teammate through the haze of lust, “If you would just hurry up and—“  Fitz cut himself off with a groan as Ward pumped him again, running his thumb across the slit of his cock. 

“What was that?  I couldn’t quite make that out.”

Fitz slumped back against the wall, frustrated, his breath heaving.  Ward was smirking down at him, but Fitz could still tell that his pupils were wide and hazy.  So, at least he wasn’t the only one affected here. 

“Or maybe,” Ward continued, “I should just let you _take care of yourself_.”

“You c-completely took that ou-out of context,” argued Fitz, squirming and swallowing a moan as Ward’s thumb began to run circles across the head of his cock. 

“I think that’s moot point right now,” murmured Ward.   He leaned his head forward, and began mouthing at Fitz’s ear.  The scientist bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan, but failing.  He could feel the huff of breath as Ward chuckled.

“We can’t stay back here forever,” the agent teased, his voice low and smooth and _sex_. 

“I—I just—you—“ Fitz stuttered, arching up into Ward because he had somehow pulled his cock out and was now rubbing them together and—“ _Shite_!”

“Not quite,” muttered Ward, grunting as he pumped their members together. 

Fitz’s vision was swimming, but he calculated enough perception to surge forward and kiss Ward again.  This time, Fitz was fighting back, his tongue battling Ward’s and nipping at the agent’s lips.  He felt a surge of pride whenever he made the taller man moan, which was starting to get more frequent because they were both so close. 

Fitz’s toes were curling in his shoes and the heat in his stomach was starting to feel like lava.  Ward’s kiss was getting sloppier, and Fitz pulled back, gazing up at his teammate with hooded eyes.

“Please, Grant,” breathed Leo.  “Take care of me.”

It has the desired effect.  Ward hisses out a, “Fuck!” and mashed his lips back onto Fitz’s.  Ward’s pumping was faster, and he twisted his hand just so.

Fitz’s orgasm took him by surprise.  His vision filled with stars and sparks, his ears filling with the moans of his teammate as he himself went over the edge.  Fitz blinked his eyes open—he must have shut them at some point—and looked dazedly at Ward.  The agent looked flushed and slightly hazed, but not as far gone as Fitz himself felt. 

Ward let go of Fitz’s hands, and the scientist immediately wrapped his arms around Ward’s shoulders and kissed him.  This time, the kiss held something more than just lust, but it was over before Fitz could figure out what that _something_ was.

“We need to get back,” said Ward, sounding like they _hadn’t_ just copulated in a dark alley but had been doing mission related things the whole time.  He ripped off a sleeve of his long sleeved shirt and used it to clean them both up.

“Won’t they be suspicious?” asked Fitz, hating how out of breath he sounded compared to Ward’s smooth complexion.  “About us not getting the information?  And about that?”  He pointed to the torn sleeve, and Ward glanced up at him before carefully tucking himself and Fitz back into his pants. 

“I got in a fight, and we lost him,” Ward shrugged.  “Coulson’ll live a few more hours without the information that he needs.”

Fitz had completely forgotten about Coulson; he once again realized where they were and what they had done and who had done it with. 

It was that shock, not the post-orgasmic bliss, that made Fitz not protest as Ward lead him back to the bus.  After explaining the “mission” to Coulson, Ward brushed his fingers against Fitz’s as he was walking past him.  Fitz wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or not. 

It wasn’t until later that night, when he was tucked away in his bunk safe from the rest of the world, that Fitz finally let himself wonder what exactly he had gotten himself in to.


End file.
